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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958078">Breakfast With You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcisamtyler/pseuds/dcisamtyler'>dcisamtyler</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Simm!Master One-Shots [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:00:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,122</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcisamtyler/pseuds/dcisamtyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A short-ish drabble inspired by the dialogue prompt: "I like this. A quiet breakfast with you."</p><p>[Written as bb Simm!Master but can probably be read as any Master, with the exception of Missy, since it uses he/him pronouns for the Master.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Master (Doctor Who)/Reader, The Master (Simm)/Reader, The Master (Simm)/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Simm!Master One-Shots [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Breakfast With You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Master looked absolutely bewildered.</p><p>For once, the Time Lord wasn’t sure what to say or do.</p><p>It felt like an accomplishment. The Time Lord was always exuding confidence and bustling with energy, but now he was trapped in a tight leather booth in the front of a restaurant. </p><p>Okay, so, maybe, it wasn’t you, exactly, but where you had chosen to take him.</p><p>You watched in amusement as his eyes scanned the entire restaurant. The booths and tables around you were mostly empty – but a young couple sat in the far corner, chatting rather loudly about their college courses. His gaze lingered on the large flat-screen playing a re-run of a baseball game before he met your eyes with an indignant look. “I can’t believe we’re <cite>here</cite>,” he whispered, sitting back in his seat. He glanced at the checker-board tiling and the chef moving around in the kitchen, unsure.</p><p>You shrugged, giving a quick ‘mhm’ before picking up your menu. </p><p>You didn’t care. You wanted to come here. You hadn’t seen such a large colorful array of options like this in a long time. All of the possibilities were making your stomach grumble – the scrambled eggs and toast, a thick pile of French toast topped with strawberries, a stack of pancakes smothered in maple syrup. After eating too many TARDIS meals and odd snacks on different planets, you had no idea how you were supposed to choose, even when they were such familiar options.</p><p>You heard the Master mock your noise of recognition before he heaved a dramatic sigh. “We’re doing this,” he said again as if saying it one more time might make you realize that it was, in fact, a mistake to drag him here. “I can’t believe it.”</p><p>You had been trying to choose between pancakes and waffles. You glanced up at him. “What? Eating breakfast at midnight?”</p><p>The Master scoffed, glancing outside at the pitch-black sky. The moonlight streamed in through the folds of the large curtains. “No, eating at an <cite>Earth</cite> diner.”</p><p>You dropped your menu for a moment, raising an eyebrow. “It’s just a Denny’s.”</p><p>The Time Lord gave a slight eye roll. Of course, he wouldn’t care about the difference – he didn’t see a difference. All of it seemed stupid and rather <cite>human</cite>.</p><p>You knew he was probably starting to regret letting you pick the next trip in the TARDIS. He had been so excited to let you make the choice too, his arm proudly wrapped around your waist as he swept an arm out at the console room. “Let’s go see the stars, Y/N.”</p><p>By seeing the stars, he was probably hoping for a trip to a vibrant and lively planet – maybe, sight-seeing on Cecilia Plasteri or a relaxing trip to the clearwater beaches of New Miami on the very southern tip of the galaxy. But no – you chose to go back to his least favorite planet: Earth. Now he was stuck seeing the stars from the inside of a restaurant. He didn’t like it one bit.</p><p>In fact, he hadn’t even bothered to pick up his menu. He simply played with his straw wrapper, flattening it, folding it up, finally rolling it up into a little ball. He threw it at you and it hit you square in the forehead, sending him into little giggles. The Master began to play with everything on the table –  the row of syrups, the stack of sugars, the little squares of jam. You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering if he was ever going to pick a meal, or at least - pretend to enjoy being there with you.</p><p>You weren’t sure if that was ever going to happen, though, because he immediately went to grab the wrapper next to your drink to do the same thing all over again. You put your hand on his to stop him. “I’m sorry – should I have asked for a kid’s menu instead?”</p><p>He looked away and pouted for a moment, but he let your hand linger on top of his. He was a sucker for your touch, and now that he was completely out of his element, he needed your comfort more than anything.</p><p>But he also needed to keep himself busy, and he was about to reach for the wrapper with his other hand when your waitress, Andrea - a pleasant and plump 50-something-year-old with short hair wandered over after giving you some time to consider your options (none of which included leaving, much to the Master’s chagrin).</p><p>She glanced between the two of you and plucked her pen and pad from her apron. “Alright, folks – have we had enough time to look over the menu?”</p><p>You raised an eyebrow at the Master, before looking back at Andrea with a polite smile. As you took charge and ordered for both of you – the Master looked offended, his eyebrows practically up to his hairline, but he stayed quiet, taking long sips of his ice water.</p><p>When Andrea walked away, you gave him a warning look. “Behave yourself.”</p><p>He pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at you. “I am!”</p><p>It felt like hours until you got your food, not because the restaurant was taking so long, but because the Master couldn’t stop acting like an impatient child. After you let him toss another straw wrapper ball at you (“It’s like that human game? What’s it – oh, right! Dodgeball!”), you moved on to playing several rounds of tic-tac-toe on the back of your placemat.</p><p>Of course, he won all of them.</p><p>You were about to start another game when Andrea walked over with two plates. You breathed in – you couldn’t have been happier. It had been way too long since you could smell pancakes that didn’t come out zapped out of a machine.</p><p>“Here you go, folks – one plate of blueberry pancakes, extra whipped cream, and a Grand Slam with a side of toast.” She placed them down with a flourish. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”</p><p>You gave her a polite nod and a no thank you, watching her walk to seat a group of teenagers who had just meandered in from outside.</p><p>You both ate in content silence. To your surprise, the Master actually really enjoyed the food. He happily devoured the entire thing, only yelping in protest when you stole a piece of greasy bacon off his plate.</p><p>After you finished your food, you leaned back in your seat and smiled at him. “I like this.”</p><p>He chuckled, placing his empty plate to the side. “What? Eating pancakes at midnight?”</p><p>“No, a quiet breakfast with you.”</p><p>“Surprisingly,” he said with a soft grin, reaching for your hand. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, either.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, it's me. Still soft for Simm!Master. Hoped you enjoyed yet another fluffy fic! Thanks for reading.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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